


Cair Paravel

by ChocolatteKitty_Kat



Series: A Noble Contradiction [2]
Category: Chronicles of Narnia (Movies), Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Cair Paravel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-28 17:27:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17791661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocolatteKitty_Kat/pseuds/ChocolatteKitty_Kat
Summary: Caspian determines to rebuild the castle-on-the-sea and make it his new capitol.





	Cair Paravel

**Author's Note:**

> About 6 months after the events of Prince Caspian.

Caspian ducked down to avoid a low-hanging tree branch and felt the leaved brush against the back of his head as he flew under it. He was astride his warhorse, Destrier, and they were racing through the forest--one of the few things Caspian was able to do on his own now that he was king, although that was largely because almost no-one could keep up with him. Seconds after Caspian and Destrier cleared the branch, the king heard a thud and a loud “Ow!” from behind him. He brought Destrier up to a halt, turned the horse around, and looked back to find the source.

Sprawled on the ground, long legs askew, was a centaur. Caspian let a chuckle escape as he dismounted and headed towards his friend. “You’re supposed to dodge the branch, you know.”

The only reply was an unintelligible grumble as Avernetrios finally managed to roll onto his side. “Give me a hand up, would you? You have no idea how hard it is to stand up when you have legs like these.”

With some difficulty, Caspian and Avernetrios managed to get the centaur on his feet again. Once he was standing, Avernetrios brushed himself off, shook out his long hair, swished his tail, and stamped his hooves. “There. That’s better.”

Caspian laughed and returned to Destrier. “Come on. Let’s keep going.”

“How did you manage to avoid that?” Avernetrios called after him. He trotted up beside Caspian. “I didn’t even see it.”

“I’ve been knocked off my horse by a branch before. It’s not an experience I wish to repeat.” Caspian shuddered at the memory of the night he had fled his wicked uncle. Sometimes it felt as though the whole ordeal leading up to his coronation had happened only days ago, sometimes it seemed more like years, while in reality it had only been a few months.

“Well, I certainly hope I never repeat it,” Avernetrios rubbed a hand across the red mark on his left shoulder. “Ouch. That’s definitely going to bruise.”

Caspian chuckled and kept riding. Avernetrios lapsed into silence as well, and soon the only sound was that of eight hooves trampling the forest floor. The trees around them were brilliant with the colors of autumn--fiery orange, blood red, earthy brown, sunny yellow, and rosy pink--and fallen leaves carpeted the ground beneath them. In fact, the whole reason for Caspian and Avernetrios’s ride that day was fear of the impending winter, which had the potential to trap both of the restless boys in the castle. As it was, the day was brisk. Even through his heavy cloak and tunic, Caspian could feel the chill of the air; an observer would notice the bright red of his nose, cheeks, and ears. Avernetrios wore only a long-sleeved shirt under his boiled leather armor, but, as he rarely wore any clothes beyond his armor, this spoke as much to the cold as Caspian’s heavy layers did.

As they began to emerge from the forest, Caspian slowed Destrier to a walk, and Avernetrios matched the new pace. “It’s getting late,” said the centaur. “We should turn back soon.”

“Soon,” Caspian promised, his eyes fixed on something in the distance. “Where are we?”

Avernetrios rolled his eyes. “You have no head for direction. We’re getting close to the sea. Near where Cair Paravel is supposed to be, actually.”

Caspian nodded. In the distance, just under the line of the horizon, he could see a brilliant blue stripe.  _ The sea _ , he thought, although he had never seen it.

“Not today, sire,” Avernetrios said gently but firmly. “It’s too far into the year. If it were still summer, and we had hours of light left, I would run with you to the sea, but not today. We don’t want to have to find our way home through the forest at night.”

Reluctantly, Caspian nodded and turned Destrier around. They didn’t speak much on the ride back to Caspian’s castle, especially as the temperature began to drop and night began to fall, and both focused on conserving their warmth and finding the way home.

.*.*.*.*.*.

In the morning, when Caspian woke and made to get out of bed, he actually gasped when the frigid air of his chamber hit his skin. There was a fire in the grate of his room, but it was low-burning; he hurried across the room to stoke it, shivering from the moment his feet touched the floor. He dressed quickly in a heavy pair of trousers, shirt, thick tunic, and knit socks--the last a gift from his old nursemaid. A breakfast tray had been placed on his table by whoever started the fire, and he ate a quick meal before belting on Rhindon and leaving the room.

“Good morning, sire!” Reepicheep’s morning salutations had become routine for Caspian by this point--the Mouse hardly left his side throughout the day, insisting on guarding Caspian from the moment he left his room in the morning until he returned at night.

“Good morning, Reepicheep,” Caspian smiled down at the mouse, who scurried along beside him.

When they reached the council chamber, they found several of the lords already assembled: Trumpkin and Trufflehunter were in their seats, while Doctor Cornelius stood by and chatted with them. The Bulgy Bear was sucking on his paw in the corner--everyone had given up on trying to break him of the habit--and Glenstorm and his sons, Ironhoof and Suncloud, each stood in the other corners. The two long and one of the short sides of the rectangle were comprised of the Lords’ seats, while the final short side was formed by the dais on which Caspian’s throne stood. Avernetrios already stood on the dais by the throne.

“Nice scarf,” Caspian grinned up at his friend as he took his seat.

Avernetrios simply gave a huge sniffle in response.

“Bless you,” Caspian mumbled.

Avernetrios glared down at his king. “I didn’t sneeze,” he whispered.

“I know,” Caspian grinned slightly.

Once the remaining lords had filled out their seats in the chamber, Doctor Cornelius called the assembly to order and called for new business to be brought forward. For several long moments, there was silence, broken only by the sound of the Bear sucking his paw, but finally, a stocky black dwarf on the far side of the chamber hopped down off of his seat and strode forward. “Your majesty, if I may?” he bowed deeply.

“Speak, Lord Darendulum,” Caspian said.

“Well, your majesty,” Darendulum said slowly, “I’ve just returned from a visit with my people in the North, and there seems to be a bit of unrest there.”

“No surprise there,” Reepicheep mumbled.

Caspian coughed in attempt to cover the Mouse’s words. Darendulum seemed to take no notice, and continued:

“The Black Dwarves,” Darendulum’s voice rose as he stepped down and away from his seat, heading toward the center of the chamber, “do not feel as though the new King of Narnia is behaving in such a way that befits a King of Narnia. Leaving out the fact that King Caspian is a Telmarine, unlike the Kings and Queens of Old, he rules from this… place.

“It has long been told that the Telmarines, led by our own king’s forefather, built the castle from which they would rule Narnia on the ruins of the castle once built by the White Witch, many ages ago,” Darendulum continued. “You all may  have forgotten her tyranny, but many of my own people remember”--

“Remember the days when you served her?” Trumpkin interrupted. “Because let’s not forget that that’s how the winter came to pass. The Black Dwarves were the first to fall under the Witch’s sway, and the last to come out from under it. Some of you are still there, if my memory of our king’s revolt serves me right.”

“Nikabrik and his followers were outliers,” Darendulum snapped, whipping around to glower at Trumpkin. “Most of the Black Dwarves live lives of peace and loyalty to Aslan.”

“Let’s not get distracted here,” Trufflehunter the Badger stood, hands outstretched placatingly towards both dwarves. “Lord Darendulum was addressing the matter of his majesty’s living quarters.” Even the ever-patient Badger seemed irritated by the trivial line of discussion that Darendulum had raised.

“Of course,” Darendulum straightened up and turned back towards Caspian. “You see, my king, the issue that my people have raised is a moral one. This castle, whether or not its origin lies with the Witch or the Telmarines, is a symbol of oppression towards the native races of Narnia. Some even wonder--not I, of course, your majesty--if it is possible that even being in a place of such historical persecution could… inspire your majesty to a similarly terrifying reign over the Old Narnians.”

Before the words had even left his lips, Reepicheep was off. In the blink of an eye, he had vaulted off of the dais and sprinted to where Darendulum stood, drawing his sword in the process. “How dare you impugn his majesty’s honor, dwarf!” the Mouse squeaked shrilly.

Trufflehunter buried his head in his paws. Doctor Cornelius sat up straight, looking extremely alarmed. The Bulgy Bear’s paw fell out of his mouth as his jaw dropped in shock.

Caspian glanced around the chamber. The other Black Dwarf representatives were on the edges of their seats, hands on their sword hilts--in that moment, Caspian regretted allowing the lords to carry weapons into the chamber--while Trumpkin and the other Red Dwarves were edging forward, eyes on their dark-skinned relatives as though they were looking for an excuse to draw their weapons. Glenstorm, Ironhoof, and Suncloud had already edged their swords slightly out of the sheaths, and the steel of the blades glimmered in the morning sun that streamed into the chamber. Beside Caspian, Avernetrios stood stock still with his arms crossed, but the king could tell that every muscle in his body was tensed, and he saw a glimmer of metal under the edges of the centaur’s scarf.

Caspian did the only thing he could think of.

He leapt to his feet. “Enough!” he cried. All eyes, even Reepicheep’s, turned to him. “Reepicheep, put your blade away. The rest of you, hands off your swords, please. This is a place of discussion, not of battle.”

Slowly, the Dwarves began to settle back into their seats, glaring at one another across the room. The centaurs slid their swords back into their sheaths, Reepicheep lowered his sword, and Caspian heard a soft click as Avernetrios returned his hidden blades to their homes. Once everyone had returned to their seats--with the exception of Reepicheep and Darendulum--Caspian stepped forward.

“I must admit,” he began, continuing to move towards Darendululm, who now seemed completely uncomfortable, “that the thought had crossed my mind as well. Admittedly, I had never heard the suggestion that this castle was that of the Witch, but I had considered its implications based on the Telmarine regime of my ancestors.”

“Say the word, your majesty, and the Black Dwarves will begin construction on a new palace immediately!” Darendulum said eagerly.

“The Red Dwarves as well!” Rorfok, lead representative of the Red Dwarves, leapt to his feet now.

“Thank you,” Caspian held up his hands, “but I wasn’t thinking of a…  _ new _ place, exactly.”

He turned in a slow circle, taking in the lords around the chamber. “Yesterday, I went on a ride with Avernetrios,” he gestured to the centaur still standing on the dais. “We rode further than normal, taking in the good weather--who knows how much longer that will be around, as winter begins to come--and found ourselves very near the sea. Avernetrios told me that we were near where the legends say Cair Paravel may be, although, so far as I know, only Trumpkin has ever seen that.

“Anyways, it was too late in the day for us to go all the way to the sea, but as we began our return trip, I couldn’t help but think of Cair Paravel and what it meant. Not just as a home, but as a symbol. After all, it is where the Kings and Queens of Old ruled over Narnia after defeating the White Witch, and, according to Doctor Cornelius’s history books, it was the traditional seat of government both before and after that time. Until my people, the Telmarines, destroyed it, of course.

Caspian hand done nearly an entire circuit of the room by now, and ascended the dais. “Trumpkin, if I asked you to take us back to Cair Paravel, do you think that you could?”

The dwarf shifted in his seat and harrumphed slightly. “I don’t see why not,” he said. “It’s not like it was hard to find the first time around.”

“As for the rest of you noble dwarves, would your offer still stand if I asked you for a reconstruction, rather than a truly new build?” Caspian glanced around, smiling slightly.

Many of the dwarves traded eager glances. “Of course, your majesty!” Rorfok cried out, just before Darendulum said “My people would be honored, Sire!”

Caspian grinned and nodded at both of them. “Thank you, my lords. I look forward to seeing the results.”

.*.*.*.*.*.

Three days later--the expedition having been delayed slightly due to autumn rains--Caspian, Trumpkin, and their companions stood on a cliff, looking across a narrow channel far below them, to a small island. At the crest of a hill on the island, they could just see bits and pieces of ancient stone ruins peeping between great trees.

“That’s it,” Trumpkin nodded firmly.

“But how do we  _ get _ there?” Darendulum grumbled, shaking water that had dripped off of an overhanging tree off of his head.

“That channel,” Trumpkin pointed down at the water, “comes inland, down there,” he traced the rough path with his finger. “The forest slopes down to meet it. We’ll need rowboats--that’s how the Telmarines took me out into the channel, and the Kings and Queens and I rowed back up to get reach King Caspian and his army. Once we get on the island, there are a few small paths up to the remains of the castle. We’ll need to widen those, certainly, in order to get the materials we need up to the top of the hill, but they’re not too hard to find once you start looking for them.”

“We can begin construction within the week,” Darendulum promised grandly. “We’ll have to start bringing materials in from the north and south, of course, but the first shipment could be here within days. Until then, we can take the builders and begin to plan a course of action.”

Rorfok was nodding eagerly, the rivalry between the two races forgotten in their excitement for the project. “We can clear the trees and paths while we wait for the stone--that could start tomorrow, providing the weather is good enough--and see what parts of the old castle can be incorporated into the new structure.”

As they headed back to the horses, waiting at the bottom of the last his will the rest of the retinue, Caspian, Trumpkin, and Avernetrios fell to the back of the group, the excited chatter of the other dwarves filling the forest ahead of them.

“Excellent, your majesty,” Avernetrios said softly.

“What’s that?” Caspian asked.

“Not only did you defuse a brewing conflict, you’ve also cemented your position as someone who is on the side of the Old Narnians,” Avernetrios said. “You’ve demonstrated a respect and even interest for our history, not to mention a knowledge of it. And you are making yourself a part of that history, not by trying to become one of us, but by creating something new: a combination of Narnia and everything that makes you and the other remaining Telmarines different from the others of your race. Very well done.”

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own anything you may recognize from the Chronicles of Narnia series, including characters, ideas, places, events, and etc. I do, however, own this story, its contents, and any original characters.


End file.
